"Yes, daughter, you must forget him, for to remember him would be a grievous sin. And you must forgive him, though he meditated against you the deepest wrong," said the abbess, solemnly.
"I will try to forgive the wrong-doer and forget the wrong, but oh! mother, mother, it will be very hard to overlive it! Oh, I hope, I hope, if it be Heaven's will, that I shall not have to live very long," said Salome, with a heavy sigh.
"That is the way I felt in the first bitterness of my sorrow: but the feeling passed away in duty-doing. And now, although I know that in the next life every need and aspiration of the soul will be fulfilled, yet I find such peace and joy here, that I am willing, yes and glad, to live in this world as long as my Lord has any work for me to do in his vineyard."
"Tell me what I ought to do, and I will try to do it," said Salome, with another deep sigh; for her very breathing was sighing now.
"You know that this is Saturday, the last Saturday before Christmas," said the abbess.
"Is it? I did not know, I have taken no note of time."
"And to-morrow is Sunday, the last Sunday before Christmas."
"Yes, of course."
"Daughter, you have not been to chapel once since your arrival among us."
"Ah, no! I came from the infirmary here, and I have not left this room to go anywhere since!" sighed Salome.